


Verisimilitude.

by barthelme



Series: Mors Certa, Vita Incerta [4]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, M/M, are we human or are we android
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 14:24:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16097468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barthelme/pseuds/barthelme
Summary: Timmy wants a haircut.





	Verisimilitude.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ghostcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostcat/gifts).



> It's Ghostcat's birthday and since I couldn't take her out for ice cream, I spent my day writing about Timmy 2.0 wanting a haircut in her honor. I also signed a solo blood oath stating that I will never randomly delete all of my fic ever again.

Timmy wants a haircut. 

His head is in Armie's lap. "Like a trim?" Armie asks. Runs his fingers through the curls. Wraps a finger around a lock and twists, twists, twists until his finger is flush against Timmy's scalp. Gives one more half twists which makes Timmy gasp a little. Makes him look away from the television (they're two seasons into _Parks and Recreation_ ) and up at Armie. "I could do that, probably."

Timmy shakes his head and Armie loosens his fingers from Timmy's hair. Goes back to combing out the knots. He hasn't thought about it much, but Timmy doesn't seem to change. His hair is the same length as when he took him out of the box, just brushing his shoulders. Longer when he's been in the garden, when the wind has straightened the curls a bit. And it's not just his hair. Nothing has changed, not the softness of his belly, the slight tone of his arms, the tight heat of his ass. His skintone, no matter how long he stays outside, stays pale. 

(Armie put sunscreen on him once. Carefully rubbed the lotion onto Timmy's arms, up into his neck. Pushed his fingers under the back of Timmy's collar to make sure he wouldn't burn when his head was bent. Smoothed it onto his cheeks, his nose while Timmy just smiled. Eyes closed. Afterwards, when Timmy had showered the dirt off his elbows and knees, he joined Armie in bed for a nap and said, "I can't burn, just so you know. But I like when you take care of me."

Armie didn't put sunscreen on him anymore, but he did start touching Timmy more. Rubbing his feet while they watched television, stroking his arms when they stopped to rest at a park bench. Cupping his cheeks to run his fingers over the skin, just because.)

"No, like a haircut. A few inches, probably." Timmy turns back to the television.  
______

Armie fucks Timmy from behind. On his knees and elbows, legs spread just enough for Armie to fit between his calves. It's been a long time since he's worried about hurting Timmy. Since he's paused before slapping him, stuttered after spitting on him. The last time he remembers faltering was months ago when he held Timmy's mouth on his cock, fucked up into his throat and hissed, "This is all you're good for," and felt Timmy gag around him. Felt him try to pull back and Armie let him. 

"Parsley," Timmy whispered before taking Armie's cock back in his mouth. Looked up at Armie and nodded for him to continue, but Armie's hands were shaking and his mouth was dry. Timmy had never used one of the safe words, and Armie doesn't like the sound of it. He's glad it wasn't "basil," glad Timmy didn't need to stop. But "parsley" isn't anything Armie thought he'd hear Timmy say. 

Timmy pulled off and looked up. Repeated, "Parsley," and then adds, "I said parsley, so," and then went back to Armie's cock. 

Parsley. Go another direction. Take another road. Armie thrust back up into Timmy's mouth. Felt Timmy swallow around him. Asked, "Maybe I won't fuck you anymore. Just use your mouth all the time. Would you like that?" And he could see Timmy's eyes rolling into the back of his head, even with his eyes closed. Watched as Timmy started to reach for his own cock, tried to touch himself before Armie pulled his hair, said, "This isn't about you right now." Watched as Timmy moved to lace his hands behind his back. 

Right, so it's been a while and Armie doesn't think about it when he presses flush against Timmy's ass. When he slaps Timmy's ass, his hand too big to stay just on the cheek. Partially covering Timmy's hip. He pulls his hips back then reaches up, pulling Timmy's hair into a ponytail and wrapping it in his fist. Yanking his head back so Timmy can't look anywhere but at the crown molding joining the wall and ceiling. Holds him there until Timmy's shaking, until his body convulses and he comes all over the covers, stutters an apology for the mess. 

Armie stays inside Timmy. Rolls them to their sides and slowly fucks into him. Loosens his grip on Timmy's hair and instead nuzzles into the curls. "Such a good boy," he whispers. Strokes Timmy's hip, his side. "My good boy," he says and Timmy whimpers, pushes back against Armie's cock. Meets every slow thrust with a half-hearted clench of his muscles until Armie is coming inside him.  
_____

It's Tuesday, so Armie walks Timmy to the coffee shop before work. Liz is already outside with a cup of coffee and a bagel. She greets Timmy first, wrapping him in a hug as he tucks his head against her shoulder and slinks his arms around his waist. Armie doesn't get a hug. Just a quick peck on the cheek before Liz is ushering Timmy into a chair. "How's the garden? You planted lettuce last week, right?" Liz asks, picking up her bagel. 

"Gee, have a good day," Armie jokes, leaning down and kissing the top of Timmy's head, squeezing his shoulder. "The third wheel is on his way to work," Armie says before leaving. The first few times Timmy went for coffee with Liz, Armie worried all day. Worried that Timmy would wander or get lost. That someone might do _something_ to him. It was irrational, of course, because there were overrides and laws and it was _Timmy_. Every night, Armie would come home and Timmy would be watching television or cleaning the shower or reading a magazine. He'd tell Armie everything he talked about with Liz, even though Armie told him it was okay for those conversations to stay private. 

(And, yeah, it was weird to have his ex-wife and his Timmy form a friendship. Maybe he wanted the conversations to stay private, maybe he didn't want to know the similarities the two shared. Maybe he doesn't want to think that he could have had with Liz what he has with Timmy because he has Timmy right now. He wants Timmy right now.)

At work, Armie Googles, "will my android's hair grow back," and learns that no, it will not grow back. 

The official website says, _Your android's hair will not grow after a haircut. However, if you decide you would like to return your android's hair to normal, contact our customer service line and they will e-mail you instructions on how to send your android in for restoration. This process normally takes between four to six weeks._

Armie sighs and closes the browser. That would be a long time without Timmy. A long time with Timmy turned off. In the dark.  
_____

Timmy's in the garden when Armie gets home. Armie sees him, but doesn't disturb him. Walks upstairs to drop his things off and change into jeans and a t-shirt. Starts the oven and pulls out a frozen pizza; he doesn't feel like cooking tonight. 

When Timmy comes in, he drops a mesh bag of vegetables on the counter. Some bell peppers, tomatoes, and beans. There's a small baggy inside and Timmy pulls it out, holds it up with dirty fingers. "I thinned the lettuce sprouts," he explains. "You can put these on sandwiches, I think? That's what I read."

Armie grins and takes the bag. Kisses Timmy. "Go shower; you smell like worms."

He washes the vegetables and puts them away. Wipes the counter off and puts the pizza in the oven. Sets the timer and starts to stake Timmy's magazines in a pile; he leaves them open all over the apartment. He stacks them on the coffee table and picks up a scrap of paper with a phone number on it. It says "elliot" underneath the number. 

Elliot. Armie glares at the name. Runs his thumb over the lowercase handwriting; it doesn't look like Timmy's. He still struggles to write _e_. It looks familiar and the only answer is Liz, but why would Liz be giving Timmy a phone number? Armie clenches the paper in his fist and walks to the bathroom. Pushes the curtain back and watches as Timmy runs soapy hands over his belly, his cock. Slides a hand behind himself and grins at Armie. "Want to join?"

"Who the fuck is Elliot?" Armie asks, holding the piece of paper up. It's wrinkled now and when Timmy looks at it, his face drops. He licks his lips and brings his hands to his front. Links his fingers and Armie notices the slouch. The slight curve of his shoulders that happens too quickly, so smoothly that it is obviously an instinct. He still can't help himself from waving the paper, which is getting damp from the spray, and asking, "Timmy? What the hell is this?"

"Liz," Timmy whispers and stares at the shower floor. Armie looks down and his toes are curled under. It looks painful. "It's her hairstylist. I thought it would make you uncomfortable if I went to yours."

A hairstylist. 

Armie exhales. "Jesus, Timmy, I thought," he stops because he's not entirely sure what he thought. Timmy literally can't leave him. Not even if he wanted to, which Armie doesn't want to think about right now. "Okay," he sighs. Licks his lips and pulls the shower curtain closed. Sets the paper next to the sink and turns back to the shower; Timmy's silhouette hasn't moved. Head bowed, fingers links, shoulders hunched. He can't see them, but Armie knows his toes are curled. Under his body, their knuckles white. 

He pushes he curtain back and reaches behind Timmy. Turns the water off before leaning down and twisting the plug on the tub. Turns the water back on and grins when he notices Timmy trying to watch what Armie is doing behind him. Trying to peak without moving. "You can sit down, if you want," Armie says before standing and starting to strip out of his clothes. "I need to clean up, too." 

When the tub is filled, Armie has somehow managed to fit inside. Managed to tuck Timmy between his thighs and wrap his arms around his chest. He leans back and sinks down so everything is warm except his knees, his calves. "Why can't you go to my stylist? Dani's very nice, I promise."

Timmy tilts his head back against Armie's shoulder. Turns his neck until he can mouth at Armie's jaw. "Didn't want you to have to bring me there. And explain. And Liz's is close; I could go when you're at work if you let me."

Armie nods. "Timmy, I don't want you to ever worry about things like that. But, if you would rather go to Liz's, you can. Maybe she'll go with you. Or I can. Or you can go alone. It's up to you."

Timmy grins against Armie's skin. "So, I can get a haircut?"

Armie rolls his eyes. Laughs, "I'm pretty sure if I said no you'd just cut it yourself, so yes. You can get a haircut and you may travel by yourself or with Liz to either go to Elliot's place or Dani's. I'll give you money tonight, okay?"

Timmy shimmies a bit and the water splashes around them. "I'm not ready right--"

"Whenever you want. You can go whenever you want, okay?" The water is starting to cool and Armie runs his hands up and down Timmy's obliques. "You do know how to tip, right?"

_____

Timmy falls asleep early. He always does on Tuesdays and Armie thinks it's because of the coffee dates, the overstimulation. Possibly even the power trip of being able to walk home alone afterwards. But, he falls asleep and Armie carries him to bed. Tucks him in and turns the lights out; keeps the door cracked. 

He calls Liz and says, "I think Timmy wants to go to Elliot. He doesn't want to embarrass me by going to Dani, which is dumb. But he seems nervous, so can you go with him?" 

Liz pauses. "I could go next Tuesday. Instead of coffee."

"Okay, I'll check with him." Armie sighs. "I really like his hair," he notes. "I mean, it looks nice, doesn't it?"

Liz laughs and he can picture her smile. The way the phone is likely cradled between he ear and shoulder as she shuffles through paperwork. "It does look nice, but that's not the point."

Not the point. Armie huffs. Blinks at the bedroom door and rolls his eyes. "You're not going to tell me what the point is, are you?"

"Nope," she agrees. Adds, "I'll see you two next Tuesday. Oh, and let him call and make the appointment. He wants to."  
_____

There are a few things Armie knows not to do. Things he knows not to try. He doesn't cover Timmy's mouth, doesn't put a hand over his eyes. Never mentions--would never want to mention--Timmy being fucked by anyone else. He doesn't call him a slut without being possessive of it. "You're a slut," is not something he wants to say, not something he means. But, "You're my slut" is entirely different and Armie will say it while he fucks Timmy's mouth, while he holds his hips and lets Timmy bounce on his lap. 

He's always careful, which is why on Saturday, he's shocked when Timmy shuts down. Not physically, thank God. That hasn't happened since he was fixed all that time ago. Hopefully will never happen again. But mentally, he checks out. 

It's after they fuck. Armie knows he should go to the bathroom, clean himself up. Wipe Timmy's cum from between his thighs, his ass. The small of his back. But Timmy is on his back next to Armie, eyes closed and hair splayed across the pillow. Lips open to let soft puffs of air pass as he tries to steady his breathing. 

Armie props himself up on his elbows. Balances so he can reach a hand to Timmy's hairline and push the curls back. "You're perfect like this, you know? You don't need to change a thing."

Timmy's jaw tenses and Armie's hand freezes. "Okay," Timmy says. Rolls on his side. "I'm tired," he says, even though it's only five o'clock. Even thought Timmy doesn't like naps. 

"Timmy," Armie says and wraps a finger in Timmy's hair. Tugs softly, trying to be playful, but Timmy pulls his head away. Yanks the blankets up to cover himself. 

Armie goes to clean up. Decides against napping with Timmy.  
____

Armie: _what did timmy tell you about his hair_  
Liz: _He didn't tell me anything. Why?_  
Armie: _like how did it come up in conversation?_  
Liz: _He said he wanted a haircut. I gave him Elliot's number. Why?_  
Armie: _i think he's mad at me. because i like his hair._ Liz: _I don't think it's about the hair, really. We did see another 2.0 a few weeks ago, though. So..._

Armie pulls his face into a knot. Another 2.0. He has seen them himself, not around the neighborhood, but downtown. A few in background pictures online. They're an older model so it's rare. Rare that people would put the effort into keeping them in top shape. 

Armie: _....and?_  
Liz: _I think it reminded him that he's an android._

Armie sighs. 

Armie: _shit._  
Liz: _Tuesday still works, right?_  
Armie: _yeah. thanks again. also, make sure he tips; he didn't really understand it._  
_____

Timmy doesn't shut Armie out for long. Sunday morning, he begs to go to the beach. It's windy and when they get there, Armie roots around in the car until he finds a rubber band. Hands it to Timmy. "It might pull a bit, but it will keep your hair out of your face."

"That's okay," Timmy says, but he puts the rubber band in his pocket. Opens the car door and Armie laughs as his hair immediately becomes a cyclone of curls. 

They walk down the beach barefoot, not bothering to talk. It's too loud with the wind and the waves. When they get to the pier, Timmy asks if he can walk out and Armie says, "Yeah, but watch out for bird shit." Watches as Timmy does just that. Weaving from side to side, hopping every now and then, until he's at the end of the pier. It's not long, so Armie can see Timmy's big smile when he turns around. Can see his smile even though most of his face is covered by his hair. 

Armie pulls out his phone and takes a picture. Waves at Timmy, but doesn't beckon him to come back.  
_____

On Tuesday, Liz is outside the coffee shop with her bagel in a bag and her coffee in a to-go cup. When she sees Timmy, she grins and kisses his forehead. Lets Armie kiss her cheek. "Are we ready, Timmy?"

Timmy nods and turns to Armie. Opens his mouth and Armie knows what he's about to ask, so he cuts him off with a kiss. Runs a hand through Timmy hair and pulls him closer. "It's your hair, Timmy. Do whatever you want. I'll still love you." 

He didn't realize Timmy had been tense until he feels his muscles relax. Until Timmy wraps his arms around Armie's waist and presses his head against his chest. 

Liz taps her heel and looks at her watch.  
_____

At work, Armie tries to pass the time. He half-expected Liz to send him a picture afterwards. He hadn't asked for one, but that would have been a very Liz thing to do. She used to text him pictures when she got her nails painted, her hair trimmed, her eyebrows threaded. He checks his phone even when it doesn't vibrate. Googles, "timmy 2.0."

There are a lot of results, most of them from consignment websites and collector's blogs. He knows there are people who collect androids like dolls, lining them up on shelves and in garages, turning them on to entertain friends and family. Armie can only picture Timmy blinking his eyes open and looking around. Confused by a foreign place, unsure of what he is supposed to do. Debating if he is a who or a what. Looking to foreign eyes for answers and being ignored. Talked about like he isn't there. 

Armie scrolls down the screen and finds the android database. Opens it and finds the listing for Timmy 2.0. There were ten thousand made. Currently there are less than a thousand in working order. Of these, only two hundred and fifty-seven have been active in the last year. Eighteen have been continuously active in that year, save for reboots and restoration restarts. 

Armie doesn't know what he was looking for. Some fact to pull out, maybe. To be able to tell Timmy, "You're special. You're the only 2.0 that's been active the entire year." He knows this would only make Timmy worry about all the others. Timmy probably knows all too well what the alternative is. How he could easily be in a garage or in a dumpster. On a clearance shelf. 

It's 3:47 and Armie checks his phone again. 

Liz: _Do not make a big deal about his hair, okay? Promise me._  
Armie: _oh god it looks bad doesn't it_  
Lis: _Not bad. He just looks a lot different, okay? I promised him I wouldn't send a picture, but I can send one if you really need me to._

Armie smiles at the thought of Liz forcing Timmy to stand outside the salon to pose for a picture. Maybe she even took pictures as he was getting his hair cut, just like she would have done with their kids if that had ever been a reality. 

Armie: _no you promised him._  
Liz: _:)_

Armie stares at the clock.  
_____

Timmy isn't in the garden when Armie gets home. He's not in the living room or the kitchen. Not on the balcony (though Armie can tell he was recently. The flooring is slightly damp with water and the herbs are glistening. 

"Timmy?" Armie calls out. 

"Bathroom," Timmy says quietly and Armie follows his voice. Takes a deep breath before pushing the door open. 

At first, he focuses on Timmy's neck. He's very well acquainted with Timmy's neck. Knows exactly where to bite to make Timmy's legs weak, how softly to kiss to make him giggle. How hard to press his thumb to make Timmy's mouth fall open and his eyelids quiver. He knows this neck, but he's never seen it like this. It's long. Obviously the same length as before, but the nape of his neck is shaved to fade down to bare skin. Armie's sure if he touched the hair, it would tickle his fingers. 

So, he does. He reaches out and pushes his fingers up from the base of Timmy's neck. Up through the shaved bits and into the longer layers. "I like this," he whispers, even though he hasn't seen Timmy's face. He likes the feel of Timmy's hair. The bristle of the freshly cut ends. "Do you like it?"

Timmy nods and only then does Armie look in the mirror. At the slight bangs, the slightly wavy sides. He somehow looks nothing like Timmy 2.0 but entirely like Timmy. His Timmy. 

"I like this a lot," Armie says and slots himself behind Timmy. Rests his chin on his shoulder. In the mirror, Armie can see Timmy bite his lip. Tug on the skin and suck it into his mouth. "You look so much older," he remarks. 

Timmy catches his eyes in the mirror. Blinks quickly and leans against the counter. "Do I? I know you probably want me to look--"

"No," Armie cuts him off. Knows where this conversation is going, knows why Timmy 2.0 was created to look the way he did. Why Armie picked him out to begin with. It makes him sick some nights, remembering how he walked up and down that clearance aisle, bypassing android after android. Debating between a few before settling on Timmy 2.0 because he looked soft, innocent, young. Armie wanted to destroy him. Armie swallows. "I want you to look just like this. Until you change your mind again."

Timmy grins. Nods and leans back against Armie. "I probably won't know how to style it like this. She used a lot of products and seemed to have like eight arms."

"Tentacles?"

Timmy nods again. "Liz said she could teach me but," he shrugs, "I don't know. Maybe I'll like it more the other way."

Armie kisses Timmy's neck. "Maybe you will." 

Later, they're on the couch and Timmy is straddling Armie's lap. Armie's pants are pushed down to his knees and Timmy's are thrown in the direction of the bedroom. They're both still wearing shirts, but Armie's is streaked with Timmy's cum. He knows they've made a mess of the couch, can feel his own cum leaking out of Timmy, pooling on his skin, dripping onto the fabric. Remembers the first time he fucked Timmy on this couch, his hair splayed across the fabric as his lifeless body just took everything. 

"Shoot," Timmy whispers and sits back. Looks down at Armie's shirt then up at his face. "Sorry about your shirt," he laughs. 

Armie shrugs and reaches up to Timmy's hair. It's damp with sweat and the curls are forcing their way out. "I'm not. I like when you take charge like that." He tugs the hair out on one side and it stays. He laughs and mimics the motion on the other side. "You're like a new person with this haircut," Armie says. 

Timmy beams and leans back into Armie, neither worrying about the mess between them. "Good," he whispers before kissing Armie's neck. "I'm glad."

**Author's Note:**

> bartbarthleme on tumblr.


End file.
